


Give it up (it's just a matter of time)

by richie-tozier-is-my-eboy (HiKidsDoYouLikeViolence)



Category: IT (Movies - Muschietti), IT - Stephen King
Genre: Blow Jobs, Dom/sub Undertones, Eddie is my emotional support DILF, Infidelity, It's uh just porn, M/M, Mutual Masturbation, Older Man/Younger Man, One Night Stands, POV Alternating, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Self-Indulgent Porn, a smidge of angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-25
Updated: 2020-07-25
Packaged: 2021-03-05 20:35:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,277
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25511449
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HiKidsDoYouLikeViolence/pseuds/richie-tozier-is-my-eboy
Summary: After Myra breaks the news she wants to start a family after all, forty-year-old Eddie Kaspbrak finds himself downstairs at the hotel bar.Richie Tozier, twenty-three, has just clocked into his shift and there's already a customer waiting for him.Maybe, if they play their cards right, they'll both get what they're after.
Relationships: Eddie Kaspbrak/Myra Kaspbrak (mentioned), Eddie Kaspbrak/Richie Tozier
Comments: 22
Kudos: 132





	Give it up (it's just a matter of time)

**Author's Note:**

>   
>    
> 

Eddie isn’t one for drinking. At least, he hasn’t been since his college days. 

He is partial to a responsibly-sized glass of red wine to accompany meals out, and he will take a beer or two out of polite courtesy at barbeques and dinner parties, but outside of that Eddie sticks almost exclusively to his fruit juices and mineral waters. 

The top shelf at home is his wife’s territory. Even then Myra isn’t that big on it either, keeps most of the alcohol in the cupboards for guests only. Not that either of them have many of those.

So, no, the Kaspbraks aren’t big drinkers. 

But today. Well, today Eddie is one for drinking. He’s one for a big drink. Several drinks. An entire-fucking-liquor-cabinet.

The hotel’s bar is empty as he enters (Wednesday lunchtime) and the bartender is nowhere in sight. 

Off to a great start, Eddie eases onto a stool. He loosens his tie and scrunches up his nose at the tacky state of the countertop. Disgusting, he thinks, makes the conscious choice to keep his hands in his lap. 

He waits one whole second before he’s calling out impatiently, “Hello?” 

Nothing. 

“Anyone there?”

Eddie scowls. The welcome letter in his room clearly states the bar is open from twelve. It’s 12:03. It should be open. 

Pissed off, he waits.

Eddie is on the cusp of hopping up to go and complain at the reception desk when a man comes out from the back. “Sorry, didn’t see you there,” he greets, tosses a white tea towel over his shoulder. “What can I get you?”

His laidback opener irks Eddie. He doesn’t recognise him, which means he must be new. Eddie has stayed at _Derry’s Inn_ so often over the years that all of the staff’s faces are familiar to him. 

He’s huge, has to be at least six foot, and looks straight out of college. Early twenties. He smiles behind his glasses at him with a self-assurance Eddie could have only dreamed of at that age. This age. Right this very second _._

“A clean counter would be nice,” Eddie snides and immediately regrets it. He doesn’t want to be that angry, middle-aged dude this kid is gonna bitch about later to his friends.

It turns out he has nothing to worry about, however, because the guy just laughs goodnaturedly. He raises both palms. “Hey, don’t shoot! I only just punched in.”

“Sorry,” replies Eddie. His gaze drops and he takes the sternness out his voice. “It’s been a stressful morning.”

“No problem, man. We all have those.” 

A hand sweeps forward into Eddie’s view. It’s fingers are thick and they’re covered with soft, dark hairs. Eddie watches them maneuver a damp cloth over the woodwork, mopping up the stickiness. Eddie’s mind supplies the image of that hand on his thigh and his head snaps back up. 

He’s surprised to find the kid staring straight at him. 

He’s brown-eyed. A brunette. His locks are all gelled back, albeit haphazardly, strays hairs spilling onto his forehead. He’s handsome, Eddie realises. His lower face is darkened by the beginnings of a five o’clock shadow, dusts a jawline so impressively chiseled Eddie wants to lick it - 

What?

Eddie swallows dry and bats that particular urge back into its cage where it belongs. He’s already told himself after the last time that this nonsense needs to stop. He’s married. He’s not going to betray Myra’s trust ever again. Not to mention he’s half Eddie’s age. Bad, bad, bad all around.

“There. One clean counter, free of charge.” One of the kid’s big, carefree hands moves to rest on a beer tap and Eddie’s gaze follows it. 

Eddie’s swallows again, rests his suited arms atop the clean bar. “Thanks.”

“You’re welcome,” says broad-hands. “Anything else I can do for you today, Mr…?”

“Kaspbrak,” says Eddie. He persists on the thought of Myra but all it does is remind him of the reason he’s drinking in the first place. “And a whiskey. Double. With ice.”

“Jameson’s?”

“Whatever.”

The kid gives Eddie a toothy smile. “One Jameson’s on the rocks coming up.”

He ducks down for a clean glass, turns away to use the ice bucket. There’s a crunch before he swivels back with the glass in one hand and a bottle in the other.

He doesn’t use any sort of measurement as he pours steadily and confidently, cuts off the stream with a smooth movement. He may have been new to the hotel but he clearly already knows his way around a bar.

“So, Mr. Kaspbrak,” says the kid. He smooths out a black cocktail napkin, sets Eddie’s drink on top. “What’s the occasion?”

Eddie picks it up. “My wife wants to start a family,” he answers without thinking.

Kid blinks. “Good for you, man,” he says, demeanor a little more closed-off than it had been before. His smile shifts onto the side of cutting, obligatory politeness and Eddie immediately misses its original, authentic mirth.

Straight-faced, Eddie lifts the glass as if in a toast before he drains the whole thing in two hurried gulps. He grimaces. 

The bartender barely hides his returned bemusement, pushes up the thick rims of his glasses. A more genuine, albeit muted, smile comes back into play on his distracting, pink lips. “...or not,” he tacks on.

“Not,” agrees Eddie, sounding about as strained as his ribcage. “We’re too old.”

“Oh?”

“And I hate kids.”

“Huh.”

“And I’m gay.”

Kid’s bewilderment triples at Eddie’s last confession but he recovers fast. “...Those seem like pretty big conflicts of interest.”

“You’re telling me.” Eddie returns the crystal glass to its linen mat with a clink of ice. He’s too riled up to be embarrassed. “Give me another.”

“Sure thing, boss.” The kid is dutiful, gives Eddie a salute before he reaches back for the whiskey bottle. He tilts the spout, refills the glass. 

Eddie chases it down. “Another.”

Kid cocks a brow, fills up another two fingers.

Eddie just sips this time. He exhales long and deep, carefully rests the glass back onto its placemat. “And my name’s Eddie,” he says. “Not Mr. Kaspbrak. Not boss. It’s Eddie.”

Kid’s head tilts. He sets down the liquor bottle, holds out a hand across the bar. “Richie,” he replies. 

Eddie takes it, eager to touch, and gives a firm shake. “Richie,” he repeats, trying it on for size.

“That’s my name,” says Richie, “don’t wear it out.”

“I’ll do whatever I want,” says Eddie before he can think better, releases him.

Richie smirks, hand disappearing back behind the bar. “Oh, yeah?”

“Yeah,” confirms Eddie, bolder.

“And what is it you want, Eddie?” The way Richie purrs his name is magic, gives Eddie goosebumps. 

Eddie knows this game. The looks they’re sharing back-and-forth. He’s, shamefully, played it many times over the years.

Blazed on by Richie’s signals, the alcohol rushing to his brain, Eddie replies, “You. In my hotel room.”

Richie startles and Eddie is ghastly afraid for a few, brief seconds that he’s misread what Richie has been putting out. That the man has just been humouring Eddie’s troubled loneliness in search of a good tip. 

Thankfully, before Eddie can apologise, or, God forbid, say something else equally inappropriate, Richie’s dark eyes flicker responsively and Eddie is able to breathe again. 

That is until Richie counters with, “What about your wife?”

Eddie doesn’t have a response to that.

“I’m only kidding,” laughs Richie, body re-loosening. “I don’t care.”

His true feelings remain ambiguous to Eddie’s ears despite his strong words. “Why?” he says. “You fuck a lot of married guys?”

“Only the closeted ones due a mid-life crisis.”

Eddie straightens and Richie grins.

“I deserved that,” says Eddie.

“Yeah-huh,” says Richie. “I gotta say, dude, this is probably the best speedrun of getting into my pants I’ve ever experienced, and I’m an easy guy.”

Eddie laughs from lack of a better response. “What?”

“Don’t worry about it,” replies Richie, his gorgeous hand returning to the beer pump to rest. “My break starts at three. Reckon you can hold out ‘til then?”

“Yeah,” agrees Eddie, much too quickly.

Thankfully Richie doesn’t seem put off by the over-enthusiasm, smiles wider. 

There’s an awkward lull and Eddie isn’t sure what to say to fill it. What is there to say to someone you’ve just scheduled an impromptu hook-up with within fifteen minutes of knowing?

Maybe the last of his drink has the answer. He tips it back, but as soon as he does his feet are getting up without Eddie’s input. He guesses the drink’s answer is that he’s leaving.

“I’ll see you later, then,” says Eddie, habitually buttoning his suit jacket back together.

Richie nods, looking about as laid back as he had when he’d first come waltzing out to greet Eddie. “Helps if I know which room to go to,” he points out.

Eddie clears his throat at that, feeling the fool. Feels even more the fool when the digits escape him for a moment. “203,” he says when it comes back to him.

“203,” confirms Richie, then continues solemnly, “Be there or be square.”

Eddie’s anxiety crumples and he barks out a surprised laugh. “What?” He shakes his head. “You’re a strange guy.”

“Hey!” complains Richie, loud and playful. “Get better taste then. You’re the one who wants to fuck this strange guy.”

Eddie alarms, glances back at the empty room.

Richie is laughing. “Don’t worry, dude. It’s just us.”

Eddie can’t believe what he’s gotten himself into. “I’ll see you,” he repeats, turns to leave.

Behind him, he can still hear Richie laughing. “Have a good afternoon, Mr. Kaspbrak!”

*

Richie supposes he should probably be feeling more shame than he is as he slips down the hall for casual sex with a married man. During work. At said place of work.

He had texted Bev about him the moment he had left the bar and she’s wary about the whole thing, surprise, surprise, went on to warn Richie about getting himself caught up in another dangerous situation. Richie hadn’t listened (obviously, he’s at the guy’s hotel room now) too starstruck by the fact a hot stranger is interested in someone like him.

Richie checks his breath again, so excited his legs feel like jelly. Or is the trembling just a symptom of his anxiety? Either way he’s thrilled to be there.

Okay. Room number 203. Here it is. 

He knocks.

The man Richie is expecting answers. “Get in here,” he says in a tone that makes Richie’s knees even weaker.

Richie complies, kicks the door shut behind them with a grin.

Eddie Kaspbrak is every bit of the delicious, put-together package he was downstairs, only now he’s dressed down. No more suit jacket. No more tie. Just that blue dress shirt, buttoned down, exposed collar bone. Richie is dying to find out about everything else going on beneath it.

“Me-yow,” he says, adjusting his glasses for dramatic effect. “Looking hot, Mr. Kaspbrak.”

“Call me that again and I’m kicking you out,” replies Eddie.

Richie can’t tell whether or not he’s joking, but happily plays with fire anyway. “Not a fan, Daddy-o?”

Eddie’s brows crumple together and he pulls a repulsed face. “Absolutely not.”

Richie grins. “Alright. That checks Daddy as off the table.”

“It’s so far off the table it’s under the floorboards,” replies Eddie dryly.

Richie snickers. When Eddie doesn’t join in he feels a pang of panic.

“Sorry. I’m kind of like that dog that was never socialised properly as a puppy so they jump on all the other dogs at the dog park and piss off all the dog owners.” He pauses. “I’m saying ‘dog’ too much. What I’m trying to say is that I’ve got a bad case of trash mouth.”

Eddie, once he’s processed the analogy, blessedly laughs. “Is that a medical condition?”

“Yeah. It’s super contagious.”

“Right. Talking of that,” says Eddie. “Have you been tested recently?”

“Why? Did you not wanna use a condom?”

Dismay passes Eddie’s face. “Please don’t tell me you’re stupid enough to be having unprotected sex with strangers.”

“No, no. Never. Never!”

“Good. And you better keep it that way,” he scolds. “Because it’s not worth it.”

“Yeah. Yeah, I know,” rambles Richie, “I know, I know. Sorry. I’m just- really nervous.”

Eddie softens and Richie is soothed by the gentle expression in a way that embarrasses him. 

“Look, kid. We don’t have to-”

“No, no, no, no,” interrupts Richie, waving about his hands. “I want to. I do. Please. You have no idea. You’re, like, all my DILF wet dreams rolled up into one.”

Eddie cocks a thick eyebrow at that, hands still on his hips.

“It’s just pre-performance jitters, is all, ” half-lies Richie. And sure, part of it is, but mostly Richie is panicking over the creeping realisation of just how attractive Eddie really is, how far out of his league he has somehow managed to score.

Eddie smirks and says, “You seemed pretty confident downstairs.” which just makes it all ten times worse.

“Yeah,” Richie’s voice cracks. “I did, huh?”

Eddie opens his mouth to reply, but Richie gets there before he can.

“It’s just… I’ve never done this sober before.” Or ever, really, Richie adds internally, secretly.

“You’ve never had sex sober?” circles out Eddie, straight-faced.

“ _What?_ No, man. I mean- I mean- you know…” Richie gestures helplessly between them.

Eddie snorts, takes mercy. “It’s okay, I understand.”

It’s Richie’s turn to laugh. He tries to squash the relief off his face. “What the fuck, man? This how you get your kicks? Fucking with innocent people?”

“I’m a little drunk,” admits Eddie, although he seems pretty coherent to Richie.

Richie grins. “You can fuck me if you want,” he offers, back on topic. He’s worried he’s ruining everything, wants Eddie to know just how badly he wants him, how eager he is to please. “I’m clean and if you have a condom, I just need a sec to use your bathroom-”

Eddie holds up a single palm and Richie goes quiet. 

“How much time do we have?” the man asks.

Oh, fuck. He was right. Richie hadn’t even thought about that. “Uh,” he fumbled. “My break’s an hour, so probably just under that.”

“Best we make this quick then,” says Eddie.

“Yeah,” agrees Richie. Whatever he wants.

Eddie settles on the edge of his twin bed. He nods for Richie to get over there and he does so hastily. 

The moment Richie’s seated, Eddie leans forward and presses into his mouth. Eddie’s lips are firm and soft, lubricious, and his hand delves secure into the back of Richie’s hair. Richie has gotten nowhere near enough when the man pulls back.

“That okay?” Eddie checks in.

Richie nods thoroughly. “Yeah.”

“You like tongue?”

“Yes.”

“And biting?”

“Fuck yes.” 

Eddie smiles and squeezes the back of Richie’s neck. 

Richie could just about melt. He chases back after Eddie’s mouth, and Eddie is responsive, holding Richie in place as he lets himself inside. Richie watches him a few moments before his eyelids slide shut, too. Eddie’s tongue seems to know exactly what it wants so Richie backs down accordingly, cock stirring with interest.

Richie hums. Eddie still tastes of whiskey. Richie’s hands blindly search for the buttons of Eddie’s shirt, popping them open one-by-one as they get to know one another.

Richie has reached the last few buttons when Eddie pulls away suddenly again.

He shifts up onto his knees and takes Richie’s chin in his hand, sure fingers splayed across his cheek. He drags the tongue that had just been pinning down Richie’s along his jaw. 

“You’re a really good-looking guy, Richie,” he says once he’s finished.

Richie is a little blind-sided by the compliment, by the intense, wet heat against his skin, that he doesn’t know what to say straight away. “I don’t-” he laughs, sheepish and scratchy and breathless. “You, too.”

Eddie booms a loud laugh and Richie cringes, bleeds crimson. 

Eddie’s hand rests on Richie’s thigh, rubs up and down in commiseration. Richie notices he’s no longer wearing his wedding ring just as his hand slips between his inner thighs, just as Eddie kisses the shell of his ear and says, “Thanks.”

The mouth travels down to Richie’s neck and he shivers, moves apart his legs so that Eddie has more room to palm at him. Richie closes his eyes and holds Eddie’s wrist loosely, the strain of his trapped erection bittersweet.

Eddie shifts away after a while. He undoes the last remaining few buttons of his dress shirt, folds it up.

Richie’s mouth drops at the sight underneath. “Oh my God, you work out?” he says. “Obviously you work out, look at you. Oh my God, I can’t believe how hot you are. It’s _unfair_ that's how hot you are.”

“Less talking, more undressing,” instructs Eddie, although he seems pleased by Richie’s words, working on his belt.

Richie wonders if this kind of self-confidence comes with age or if he’s just doomed to forever live an existence of awkward self-doubt. 

Richie unbuttons just enough of his work shirt so that he can tug it off over his head, discards it. He straightens askew glasses and undoes his fly so he can wriggle out his slacks. Eddie is already naked when he realises his mistake of not untying his shoes first, fumbling to get them off.

He begins to panic that he’s taking too long, but his nerves are placated when Eddie kisses at his shoulder blades, his hands smoothing over Richie’s biceps.

It’s not very long until he’s kicking everything off over his ankles.

Eddie straightens up as Richie does and winds his arms around him from behind. Richie watches them secure themselves, deft, manicured fingers pressing, defined forearms flexing. Richie can feel the weight of Eddie’s cock pressed against his back, the heat of his chest flush against Richie’s pale skin, the coarseness of his body hair.

Richie sees Eddie peer over his shoulder out of his peripheral. He fears he will be made fun of for how excited he is, but all Eddie makes is a pleased noise that strokes Richie’s ego.

And then, “Show me how you touch yourself.”

Richie doesn’t have to be told twice. He spits a sheen onto his hand and jerks off. It’s loose and performative, more for the sake of giving his audience a good show than his own pleasure.

Eddie is silent but Richie can feel him stirring with interest from where he’s pressed against him.

When Eddie bites Richie’s jaw, Richie starts in response, but relaxes as it’s immediately soothed over with more lips and tongue. The man peppers kisses down his neck and Richie keens, lolls his head to the side.

Richie moves the hand around himself with a little more purpose, steadier.

Eddie re-settles so that he’s beside Richie, returns to his kissing. 

His hand explores Richie’s chest, eventually moves to caress the hand Richie is using to touch himself with. “I love your body.”

“Shouldn’t- shouldn’t I be saying that about you?” Richie jokes, flustered.

“Then why don’t you?”

Richie gulps and his hand stutters. “I, uh- I...”

“You...?” Richie can hear Eddie’s smile. 

Eddie drags his teeth against Richie’s skin and Richie’s eyelashes flutter at the sensation.

“I think you’re gorgeous,” blurts Richie. “Like a fine wine.”

Eddie’s nipping comes to an abrupt halt as he bursts out laughing. 

Richie feels like he’s blundered for a moment, but the longer Eddie laughs, the more he realises he hasn’t. Eddie’s laughter isn’t condescending or unpleasant. It isn’t _at_ Richie. No, he’s laughing in a way that Richie realises is making him feel good. _With_ him. Like they’ve just shared an inside joke. 

“A fine wine?” repeats Eddie once he’s able. “That’s a first.”

“What?” replies Richie, grinning. “You mean you’ve got all the way to _your age_ without anyone calling you a finely-aged wine yet?”

Eddie pinches Richie’s side, bites his ear.

“Ah!”

“Careful now, trash mouth,” purrs Eddie, licks.

Richie sighs, squeezing himself.

Eddie shifts back onto the mattress. “Come here.”

Richie goes there.

“Lay down.”

Richie lays down.

Eddie straddles him and Richie’s mouth waters. 

Everything about him is tight and compact, strong. He’s cut like Richie is, but smaller, although he has a touch more girth. Richie’s greedy hands reach out to touch skin, the muscle just as pleasing to touch as it is to look at. 

He thumbs at a pebbled nipple and marvels at the low, thrumming noise Eddie makes in response. 

“Your hands,” says Eddie distractedly.

“My hands?” confirms Richie, almost puppy-eyed. He is so hard right now.

“Touch me,” says Eddie.

Richie licks a generous strip across his palm and does just that.

Eddie sighs, fucks forward into the tight loop Richie has provided. He traps Richie’s erection beneath himself, keeps pressure there as he rolls back-and-forth. 

It’s quite the sight.

Richie sets his free hand on Eddie’s waist and Eddie grips his shoulders. 

They settle into a steady rhythm. 

Eddie watches Richie’s hand. Richie watches Eddie’s face. They both pant.

“You wanna fuck my mouth?” Eddie asks after a stretch.

Richie makes like a fish for a few moments. “Abso- _fucking_ -lutely,” he says once his brain comes back online.

“Okay.” Eddie bobs down to lap into Richie’s mouth and Richie is putty in his hands. 

He kisses Richie’s shoulder, his collarbone, his sternum. He kisses his nipples, rakes both hands through Richie’s chest hair, trailing lower, lower, lower until he’s travelled all the way down Richie’s stomach to his cock.

He lays flat between Richie’s legs, his ankles hung off the edge of the bed. “Bend your knees,” he says.

Richie does as he’s told. His heart is racing and he’s got two fistfuls of sheet.

“Tell me what you like,” says Eddie.

“What?” 

Eddie holds Richie in one hand and his tongue does a broad sweep of Richie’s taint. Richie bucks with a barely contained whimper. 

“I said,” says Eddie, breath hot against sensitive skin, “‘tell me what you like.’”

“That,” says Richie helplessly. “Your mouth. Everything.”

Eddie chuckles, deep and ravishingly sexy, and Richie can’t believe this is his reality. Eddie’s exploration briefly sneaks a little further down and Richie parts his legs wider. Eddie comes back up, a hand fondling as he traces velvet skin with his lips, the gentle scratch of his chin heavenly. 

He kisses Richie all over. Chaste at first, but soon enough it’s sloppy, heated. 

Eddie traces a vein and swishes away a blob of precome with his tongue. “You taste good,” he tells him.

Richie grunts. He’s watching through lidded eyes as Eddie holds him casually with one hand, eyes him up and down with a lick of his lips. 

“You’re big,” comments Eddie.

Richie smirks hazily. “I bet you say that to all the-”

Eddie dips back down, jaw straining this time as Richie disappears down his throat.

Richie moans with wide-eyes at the feat. 

Eddie’s cheeks hollow out, gaze lowering as he gifts Richie the best blow job of his entire existence.

Richie bites on a fist, grips the headboard with the other. He watches himself be impaled, deeper and deeper and deeper until Eddie’s nose is buried in his dark curls. His tongue laps every piece of Richie it touches, and then Eddie’s humming, swallowing greedily around the obstruction.

Richie cries out, bucks his hips. It’s all too much. “Oh, fuck, I’m gonna come,” he warns frantically.

Eddie’s eyes flicker up in surprise, but he pulls off in a flash, effortlessly switches the momentum to a wet hand, dips down to suck Richie’s balls into his mouth.

“ _Holy_ -” Richie comes so hard he numbly feels it splatter against his chin, his entire body arching up off the bed.

Eddie twists his wrist, stroking Richie through each spasm that wrecks him.

Richie collapses with a guttural noise, chest heaving from the intensity of what had happened all at once. “Sorry,” he says, breathless.

Eddie pushes back damp hair, his voice a little hoarse. “Why’re you sorry?”

“ _Cametoofast,_ ” mumbles Rich incoherently.

“What?”

Richie groans, cock still throbbing against his stomach. He repeats, “I came too fast.”

Eddie shakes his head. He pets skilled fingers through Richie’s sweaty pubic hair, presses a kiss just below his belly button. He clears his throat. “You were perfect.”

Richie’s heart shoots up into his throat without his permission. No one has ever told him that before and he doesn’t know what to do with it. How to react appropriately. He wrestles out from under Eddie and clambers, unsteady, onto the floor. 

“Wanna blow you, too,” he pleads eagerly from Eddie’s feet.

Eddie smiles and pushes back Richie’s hair. “Sure.”

Richie returns the expression, starts off with the roll of his thumb where he knows it feels best. Time is of the essence but he still takes his time mapping out the uncharted, silky territory with his mouth. He cops a better feel of Eddie’s torso as he does so, the solidness of his body addictive.

Richie isn’t the best at deep-throating, but the precedent has been set and Richie is desperate not to disappoint, so he peps himself up that he can do this.

Eddie makes a noise of encouragement as Richie takes him into his mouth. Both of his hands slide over Richie’s jawline. 

Richie manages about half of Eddie before he’s hitting the back of his throat. He takes a deep breath through his nose and sinks. 

Eddie moans and it’s all going great, that is until Richie immediately gags and shoots up off his dick.

The lust clears a little from Eddie’s heavy eyes, shifts to concern. “You okay?”

“Yes,” Richie can’t croak soon enough. 

It’s mind over matter. He’s just freaking himself out over nothing. _Just stay loose, just relax,_ he chants internally as he swallows Eddie back down, unable to look him in the eye anymore.

Richie starts bobbing his head, but it isn’t very long until he gags again, is forced to pull off. 

He coughs, teary-eyed and frustrated as he tries to catch his breath. All he wants is to be good, to take Eddie the way Eddie had taken him. He’s probably thinking Richie is some inexperienced loser who can’t even suck a guy off right.

Determined to prove himself, he goes to try again.

Eddie intervenes. “Hey, man, stop. Don’t force yourself.”

Richie burns with shame.

“It’s okay.” Eddie tilts up Richie’s chin.

“I’m-”

A kind thumb begins playing with swollen lips. “It’s okay. Let’s just take a second.”

Richie is so embarrassed, he wishes he could sink through the floor.

“...You look so good like this, you know,” says Eddie.

Richie swallows his surprise. Compliments tend to make him feel anxious and silly, and this time is no different.

“Open your mouth for me?”

Richie briefly hesitates but ultimately does so.

“Good. Now show me your tongue.”

A different type of heat seeps into Richie’s skin as he follows the order. Eddie smiles and eases his cock back into Richie’s mouth, just a few inches this time.

“Yeah. You take me so well, don’t you?” he says. 

Richie doesn’t agree but wraps his lips around him anyway, sucks.

“Fuck, that feels nice.” Eddie cards through Richie’s hair again. “Here. Give me your hand.”

Eddie guides Richie into wrapping a thumb and a couple of fingers around his base. Richie gets the idea and begins to move them, goes back to bobbing his head, albeit more shallowly, touches what he can’t reach.

“That’s it,” praises Eddie. His eyes slip shut, hand forming a fist where it has Richie’s hair. “That’s it. That’s it. Good boy.”

Richie’s stomach goes tight. The slide of Eddie’s cock filling his mouth feels good now Richie isn’t overthinking his technique, no longer worrying about copying Eddie. 

Eddie rocks shallowly and Richie matches the movement, coating the sharpness of his teeth with his lips. The room quietens, becomes nothing more than the sound of their breathing, the creak of springs, the obscene slurp of Richie’s mouth.

“That’s good,” sighs Eddie.

Richie speeds up and Eddie huffs appreciatively. 

“That’s really good.”

Richie supports himself with a hand splayed against Eddie’s thigh, can feel it trembling. Air whooshes noisily through his nose. His jaw niggles and his hand aches but Richie ignores both their complaints in favour of committing everything he has to making his lover feel good.

Richie’s favourite kind of tunnel vision.

“Fuck,” groans Eddie, watching him. “Oh, fuck. Fuck. Oh-” 

Richie has the sudden realisation Eddie’s about to come, presses his tongue flat against his head in response. He peers up at him through fogged up glasses and keeps moving his hand, fast and slick.

Eddie’s grip on the back of his head tightens and he goes silent. 

A few, shaky exhales leave Eddie’s mouth, open wide, and warmth spills into Richie’s mouth. It mixes with saliva and dribbles down his chin, makes Richie feel used in all the right ways. He eases off the pump of his hand, swallows what hasn’t escaped and presses a chaste kiss to Eddie, which Eddie shivers at with a soft cry, no doubt from over-sensitivity.

Eddie’s hand rests limp against Richie’s shoulder, the man catching his breath.

Richie wants to slump his cheek against Eddie’s thigh but backs off instead, wiping at his face with the back of his hand.

It seems to be the right call, because as soon as he does Eddie gets to his feet and disappears.

Richie sighs and massages at his jaw. He flops backwards and stretches out onto the carpet, closing his eyes.

“What are you doing?” He hears Eddie ask after a little while.

“Recovering,” answers Richie, feeling sated from the top of his head all the way down to the tips of his toes.

Eddie snorts at his theatrics. 

Something warm and damp slaps Richie’s stomach and he startles. It’s a flannel. Richie tilts his head back just in time to peek a look at Eddie’s sculpted ass, sad to see it go as it slips back into the bathroom.

“Shouldn’t you be heading out soon?” Eddie’s voice travels through the open door. The faucet runs and Richie recognises the telltale scrub of a toothbrush.

The rejection behind Eddie’s word settles like a snug, old friend in the pit of Richie’s stomach. 

Of course the handsome, completely-out-of-Richie’s-league stranger doesn’t want him in his hotel room longer than strictly necessary. Humiliation rears next that Richie had been so caught up in the moment he’d actually believed for a second that Eddie had gotten out of the hook-up what Richie had.

“Yeah,” he calls back.

The lack of a response only spurs Richie to get out of there faster. He uses the rag to wipe away the come, the sweat under his armpits, before he tosses it aside. He rolls onto his side and sits up. He gets back into his clothes, wipes the smudges from his glasses using the fabric of the sheets.

Richie puts on a playful face and dips his head into the other room. “See you later, alligator,” he says lamely, supposes even if they ever do see one another again, he’ll be ignored.

The dark eyes of Eddie’s reflection meet his, crinkle with a friendliness Richie hadn’t been expecting. Eddie raises a hand, toothbrush lodged in his cheek. Richie finds himself smiling back with a genuinity.

Richie leaves before he can humour the impulse to ask for Eddie’s number. 

It’s for the best, he thinks as the hotel door clicks behind him. He is married, after all.

Richie’s always had a problem with boundaries.

**Author's Note:**

> [my tumblr](https://richie-tozier-is-my-eboy.tumblr.com)
> 
> irl u should always use condoms for oral w/ strangers, too, but for the sake of fantasy, it was more fun this way x


End file.
